


There's Been a Lot of Talk of Love

by yet_intrepid



Series: in our bedroom after the war [3]
Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Post-Canon, Post-War
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-13
Updated: 2018-04-13
Packaged: 2019-04-22 04:20:16
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,391
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14300658
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/yet_intrepid/pseuds/yet_intrepid
Summary: “I don’t know,” he goes on. “Just in a bad mood I guess. It’ll be fine.”Krolia frowns. “That is, as humans say, bullshit. You don’t have to tell me, Keith, but you can. You always can.”Keith knows he can. At least, he knows it in his brain: she wants him to confide in her, wants to be there for him to make up for all the years she wasn’t. But there’s a part of him that doesn’t know how to tell her things, and this thing in particular—well. He doesn’t even know how he feels about it yet. He doesn’t know if it’ll make her worried or angry or what.But she looks worried anyway, so Keith sighs. “It’s Dad,” he says, quiet, without looking at her. “Dad, he—he contacted me.”





	There's Been a Lot of Talk of Love

**Author's Note:**

> Title is from another Stars song, "Hold On When You Get Love and Let Go When You Give It."

“Hey Mom.”

Keith’s in the bedroom he shares with Shiro and Matt, an Altean comm open to video chat in front of him. On the screen, Krolia grins. She’s half in her armor and half in civilian clothes, with her hair falling wildly in her face. Keith pushes his own hair off his forehead and shakes his head at himself for missing the resemblance for so long when they first met.

“Hey there, kiddo,” she greets him. “How’s Earth?”

“Earth’s fine,” Keith says. He can tell it comes out grumpy. “How’s space?”

“Space is...fine.” Krolia rolls her eyes at him, trying to cheer him up. “Or at least, this corner of space is.”

“Cool,” Keith mutters.

Krolia notices his mood. She always notices, and Keith’s still not used to it. Is this the way all moms are? He’s not always sure he likes it.

“What’s wrong?” she asks, her brows furrowing. “You aren’t sick, are you?”

“No, I’m not sick.” That...might be a lie. His nose has been clogged and his throat sore for a good week now, but it doesn’t seem to be getting any worse, so he’s attributing it to allergies for now. But either way, his sinuses aren’t the point. “I don’t know,” he goes on. “Just in a bad mood I guess. It’ll be fine.”

Krolia frowns. “That is, as humans say, bullshit. You don’t have to tell me, Keith, but you _can_. You always can.”

Keith knows he can. At least, he knows it in his brain: she wants him to confide in her, wants to be there for him to make up for all the years she wasn’t. But there’s a part of him that doesn’t know _how_ to tell her things, and this thing in particular—well. He doesn’t even know how he feels about it yet. He doesn’t know if it’ll make her worried or angry or what.

But she looks worried anyway, so Keith sighs. “It’s Dad,” he says, quiet, without looking at her. “Dad, he—he contacted me.”

Krolia’s eyes flash with something Keith can’t identify. Hope, happiness? Anger? But as quickly as it’s there, it’s gone, and concern reigns again. She waits for him to go on.

“He called while I was at work.” Keith has to swallow hard before he can get the words out. “Left a voicemail. I don’t even know how he got my number.”

“Have you listened to it?” Krolia asks. Her voice is gentle, almost calm, but by now Keith knows her well enough to recognize that something is brewing under the surface.

“Yeah,” Keith says. “I thought it was a call from another job I applied to, one that’d be dayshift? Which would mean I could be awake at the same time as everybody else, and all that. My therapist said it’d be good for me to try and go back to days. But it...it was him, and Mom...”

Keith runs a frustrated hand through his hair, tells himself to suck it up and say what he’s got to say. “Mom, I don’t want to talk to him.”

Silence hangs for a moment, and Keith flickers his eyes to his mom’s to see if she’s angry. But her face is the same: concerned, with something underneath.

“Well, that makes sense,” she says, when it’s clear Keith’s not about to go on. “How many years has it been?”

Keith thinks. “Fourteen? Around fourteen years, yeah.”

“And your last memories of him aren’t too flattering.” Krolia’s eyes flash again, and this time it definitely looks like anger.

“He was an ass.” Defensiveness swells in him, armoring the part of his heart that’s shaking. Is she mad at him? Or is she mad at his dad? “He hated me. Why would he change his mind now? And how the hell did he get my number?”

“I don’t know,” Krolia says. “Who has your number?”

Keith shrugs. “Not a lot of people. The paladins. The Holts. The Garrison. My therapist. And the Garrison and the clinic aren’t supposed to give that info out.”

Which means the leak was someone Keith trusts, which almost makes things worse. He doesn’t talk much about his dad, but he’s pretty sure it’s always been clear that he and his dad weren’t on good terms. God, who would _do_ that? Who would just hand over his number to the asshole who abandoned him, without even letting him know about it?

It’s not just Keith’s heart shaking, now. His whole body is trembly, unsteady, and he digs his nails into his palms.

“Keith,” says Krolia. “Keith, calm down, okay? You don’t have to talk to him if you don’t want to.”

“What if he knows where I live?” Keith demands. “What do I do if he shows up here, or while I’m at work? What if—Mom, I hate him; I don’t want—”

He cuts off, glancing up at the screen again, hesitant. This is his mom’s long-lost husband. She might care about him still. She might be angry that Keith doesn’t.

But Krolia meets his eyes squarely. “Give me this phone number of his,” she says, one of those dark smiles pulling at the corner of her mouth. “I’ll tell him to fuck off.”

Keith’s startled into a laugh. “You can’t,” he says. “Your devices won’t connect to each other. But—yeah. Thanks, Mom. I appreciate the offer.”

“Anytime,” she says, no hint of teasing in her tone. “I mean it, Keith. Say the word and I will come to Earth just to put my fist through his face.”

“Thanks,” Keith says softly. “And Mom?”

“Yes?”

“He said he was sorry. In the voicemail. He said he was sorry and I still don’t care.” Keith swallows hard again. His stuffy nose leaves him breathless a moment as he does. “I feel kind of bad about not caring.”

“Why?” Krolia asks. “He has done nothing to earn back your trust. And even if he tries to do so, you would be within your rights to refuse. Just as you would’ve been within your rights not to reestablish a relationship with me.”

“I guess,” Keith says. “It’s just, you know, not everything was bad. Sometimes I was pretty sure he hated me but other times he was kind of nice, even.”

“Keith,” Krolia says. She waits until he looks up at her. “If the best thing you could say about a friend is that _sometimes they were kind of nice_ , would that be a friendship to keep? To pursue?”

“No,” Keith admits, “but it—it feels different.”

“It’s okay to be conflicted.” Krolia runs a hand through her hair; Keith recognizes his own gesture. “You were conflicted about me at first, remember? So you took some time to think things through. And no matter what you decide to do about your dad contacting you, your feelings are...what is the word your therapist says? Valid. They are valid and they are yours, nobody’s place to judge.”

Keith sighs. “Yeah, okay,” he says. “But I just hate it, you know? It was easier when I didn’t have to think about him. When I’d stopped wondering why he left.”

“That makes sense,” Krolia says. “Keith— ”

And Keith knows what she’s going to say.

“Don’t,” he interrupts. “Don’t tell me you’re sorry, Mom, okay? You did the right thing going back. The war against Zarkon—that was more important. I know that. The needs of the many outweigh the needs of the few or the one. And it’s not your fault Dad turned out to be a dick.”

“You can know something was the right choice and still have regrets.” Krolia shakes her head. “That’s what he said, though? That he was sorry?”

“Yeah.” Keith thinks back to the voicemail, the startling familiarity of his Dad’s tone and the bizarreness of the words. “Do you think he’s telling the truth?”

“I don’t know.” Krolia shrugs. “But remember, whether he’s sorry or not—”

“I’m within my rights not to reestablish a relationship with him. I know, Mom.”

“Good.” She grins at him. “And if you need backup, call me.”

“I’ve got backup,” Keith assures her, though the question of how his number got shared still twinges at him. “My roommates and I fought a universe-wide war together, remember?”

“I remember.” There’s fondness in her voice, and pride, and just a tinge of sadness. “But I miss you, Keith.”

“You should visit,” he tells her, impulsively. “I mean, I don’t know where you’d sleep. Or land a ship. We don’t live near very much abandoned land. But I could go to the shack some weekend when I don’t have work and we could talk. I mean, this is nice. But it’s not the same.”

“It’s not,” Krolia agrees. “I can’t hold you like this.”

“Yeah.” Keith’s voice goes soft and fond in turn. “Yeah, I miss that.”

“I’ll look at my schedule,” she says. “I’ve got one of your earth timekeepers here, so I can figure out when my free days are for you.”

“Okay.” Keith scrubs a hand though his hair again. “Thanks, Mom. I feel better now that I’ve told you about it.”

“Anytime,” she says again, and she meets his eyes with that loving determination that still makes him feel like he’s about four years old, wanting to hide in her arms. “And tell your friends, okay? Whoever gave him your number needs to know that’s not okay.”

“Yeah, okay,” Keith promises. He picks up the Altean comm. “I’ll talk to you later.”

She smiles at him. “Bye, kiddo. Take care of yourself.”

“Yeah,” Keith says. “Bye, Mom.”

The image flickers and closes out. As Keith takes a deep breath and flops back on the bed, there’s a little half-knock at the door, which creaks open. Shiro sticks his face into the room.

Keith offers him a tired smile. “Hey there,” he says. “How was therapy?”

Shiro shrugs. “It was a lot,” he admits, coming to sit on the bed next to Keith, “but that’s nothing new. How’s Krolia?”

“She’s good.” Keith scoots over to make room for Shiro, who folds his legs criss-cross and sits with his warm back against Keith’s side. “I miss her, though.”

Shiro hums understanding. “One of those adjustment days?”

“Yeah,” Keith says. “Mostly because…”

He hesitates. Shiro, like Krolia, waits for him. Keith loves that about both of them, how they give him space. How they don’t run over him when he struggles for words.

“My dad called.” It’s no easier to admit the second time. Keith watches Shiro’s eyes go wide, almost fearful.

“Keith,” he breathes. “Oh no, Keith.”

Keith smiles bitterly. “Yep. Left a voicemail while I was at work.” He stares up at the ceiling, at the glow-in-the-dark stars. “Said he was sorry.”

Shiro hums thoughtfully again. “And?”

“And I’m angry,” Keith says, his voice going hard. “I wish he’d stay the fuck out of my life.”

“Yeah,” says Shiro. “Did he say what he wants?”

“To _talk_.” Keith half-laughs. “Whatever that means. I don’t know what he wants. I don’t know how he got my number; I don’t know how he even figured out where I am. It’s not like us being the paladins went public here on Earth.”

And then Shiro goes still. Keith can feel it, that rigid freezing, like when a flashback is coming or when Shiro has to be polite to an enemy. “Keith,” he says, and then he stops.

Keith sits up halfway, puts his hand on Shiro’s shoulder. “Yeah?”

“What’s your dad look like?”

“Why?” asks Keith, cautious.

“Or sound like,” Shiro adds. “I—I just need to know.”

Keith digs out his phone. “Here, listen to the voicemail.”

Shiro hits a few buttons, finds it, and puts the phone to his ear. As he listens, he goes paler than Keith’s seen him in a long time. After a few seconds, Shiro flips the phone closed and holds it in his left hand, grim-knuckled.

“What?” Keith demands. “Shiro, what?”

Shiro swallows. “I don’t know how he found you,” he says, “but Keith, the phone number—that’s on me.”

Keith sits up the rest of the way. “What do you mean?”

“I didn’t know.” Shiro doesn’t look at him, and that makes Keith angry, but he focuses and breathes through and manages to listen.

“I met him at the library yesterday,” Shiro goes on. “He said his company was hiring and that they pay…I don’t remember exactly how much, but a lot more than your current job. I can’t believe I didn’t realize.”

“He tricked you?” Keith’s a little breathless, angry still—at his dad, mostly, but a little at Shiro, and that part doesn’t feel good.

“I’m sorry,” Shiro says. His voice is flat and tired, and he doesn’t meet Keith’s eyes. “I should’ve figured it out.”

They sit silently for a minute.

“It’s not your fault,” Keith says at last. “It hurts but it’s not your fault.”

“I’m still sorry.” Shiro realizes he’s still holding Keith’s phone and hands it back, sighing. “Do you want me to deal with him? I could call.”

Keith shrugs. “I don’t know,” he says. “Maybe—you know, maybe this is it, you know? Maybe if I don’t reply he’ll realize I don’t want to talk to him.”

It’s a slim and fragile chance, but Keith wants to believe in it. Wants this all to be over.

“Okay,” Shiro says, though he sounds a little dubious. “Offer’s open, though. If you change your mind.”

“Thanks.” Keith scrubs both hands through his hair, which is getting long enough that he really ought to start pulling it back so he can see properly. He keeps forgetting to buy ponytail holders. “I wish—God. I wish he’d just forget I exist, you know?”

“I know,” Shiro says, soft. He rests his shoulder against Keith’s and they sit there together, quiet and tired, breathing. Keith's nose keeps making weird stuffy noises though, disturbing the peace.

“You need a decongestant,” Shiro finally says. He stands up, offering Keith a hand. “And we should really eat.”

Keith takes the hand up and, without letting go, pulls himself into Shiro’s arms for a hug. Shiro startles, but then the tension slips from his shoulders.

And despite his asshole dad, Keith feels safe and wanted when Shiro cradles him.


End file.
